


Their Little Game

by mistysinkat



Series: Prompts and Drabbles [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Porn, Smut, Sullen, oh god I'm so embarrassed but I'm posting it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistysinkat/pseuds/mistysinkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Samson play a dangerous game during their time serving the Order together in Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Little Game

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could say that I can blame this on a prompt, but I can't. I just started typing today, and lo and behold, my very first smut happened. I am incredibly embarrassed to post it, but I've been told it's decent... so I guess I will?

Cullen was vaguely aware that he was sweating. He couldn't help it, it was bloody hot in the tiny supply closet Samson had pulled them into. Just on the other side of the thin wooden door next to him, he could hear the bustle of the Circle. Templars and mages alike passed by, unaware of what was happening mere inches from where they walked. It felt so wrong. It felt so right.

“Maker….” he moaned as Samson nipped at his earlobe, the man's hands pulling at the belt that held Cullen's sword. The whole thing, scabbard, sword, and all, fell to the ground with a crash.

“He's got nothing to do with this, Rutherford,” the other man growled, a hungry gleam in his eyes.

_I suppose not_ , Cullen had meant to reply, but his words were lost as Samson claimed his mouth in a fierce kiss. Tongues met then as Cullen answered, just as strongly.

As with everything involving Samson, this was a battle of wills. A battle they both enjoyed. A battle neither really fought to win... but they fought anyway. For the game. It was a game. This was a game, this back and forth and fucking and fighting, right?

He felt Samson's hands tangle in his hair. Samson pulled, hurt just far enough into pleasure that Cullen couldn't help but let a moan escape his kiss-swollen lips. Samson tugged harder, wicked glint in his eyes. Through eyes lidded heavy with pleasure and pain, Cullen watched Samson run his tongue over his lips, considering for just a moment before he crushed himself against Cullen, pushing him harder into the wall at his back. Cullen felt warmth then on his exposed throat as Samson kissed him there, gently at first but building into that sweet mix of pain and ecstasy. He felt teeth raking the sensitive skin, biting, not hard enough to mark him, but hard enough to be felt. The message was clear enough.

_Mine_.

And Cullen was his. For this round of their little game, anyway. For the next round… who knew which man would belong to the other? Not Cullen. Probably not Samson.

Did it really matter?

Samson was pressing harder now, hips flush with Cullen's and rolling, grinding against him. A bolt rocketed through him as he felt Samson's cock - hard as he was himself - moving against his own through the layers of smallclothes and breeches they wore. It was exquisite. It was torture. It wasn't enough.

_So wrong. So wrong. We took vows._

_It doesn't matter._

“Samson,” Cullen breathed as he found his voice. “Samson, please…”

Please what? Please something. Anything but this agony of teeth and tongues and rutting through clothes. His mind couldn't cope. He needed. He wanted. More. Much more. He lost all focus and sense of place as he asked again.

“Please.”

“Listen to that,” the other man whispered into his ear, voice full of gravel and a wanting of his own, “Such pretty manners. How can I refuse?”

Cullen felt hands at his waist as Samson buried him in another rough kiss. Deft fingers set about the task of unlacing breeches and smalls. Cullen gasped into Samson's open mouth as the man took him in hand, fingertips caressing the swollen head before delving deeper and firmly wrapping around his cock.

“Fuck my hand, Rutherford. Do it.” Samson breathed, voice shaky and raspy.

Maker help him, he couldn't stop himself. He thrust into Samson's palm over and over again, and didn't spare a second thought for the desperate way he moaned.

_More. More._

“More… Samson… please.”

“More you'll have,” he promised as he fell to his knees in front of Cullen and pulled his trousers down past the curve of his ass, fully exposing him.

Cullen felt warm breaths then, as Samson waited. What was he waiting for?

“Samson… Raleigh,” Cullen moaned.

Samson arched an eyebrow at that, pausing at hearing his given name coming from Cullen’s lips. Cullen knew it was a bit too personal. A bit too meaningful for the game. For a moment, Cullen feared he'd ruined it before Samson finally moved in and flicked his tongue against Cullen's sensitive head. He arched his back and hissed from the sudden shock of it.

“What do you want, Cullen?” Samson ordered, but there was an odd softness to his command. A tone Cullen hadn't heard before from the man on his knees in front of him.

And didn't he melt with something other than pure lust at that?

“Tell me what you want,” Samson ordered again, tone sterner. It stopped the melting and deepened his need, carnal in its strength.

“Your mouth… Maker, your mouth. Please.”

“You're very polite, you know,” Samson replied before he took Cullen's length in his mouth, tongue working as he sucked him in and out and in and out again, wet and warm and perfect.

The pace was slow, maddening, and Cullen’s hand flew to grip dark hair so he could get more purchase, a little control. He was rutting now, fucking Samson's mouth, the feeling of warmth and tightness making his toes curl.

Fingers stroked his thighs. They worked their way up and up. Stroking gently and then raking nails across skin and then stroking again. With one knee, Samson pushed Cullen's foot further out, spreading his legs as wide as he could, considering Cullen's breeches were still above his knees. Samson pulled away, just a moment, to wet those fingers in his mouth. An instant, and he was back to it, harder than before.

_Maker, was he going to…_

Cullen let out a low, breathy groan as he felt pressure at his entrance. Pushing, pushing, and then a finger was in, buried to the fist. That finger pushed and pulled as that mouth worked Cullen's cock. In and out. Over and over. Cullen was flying toward the edge with a speed he found terrifying when another finger joined the first.  

He raised a hand, then, biting his thumb to keep from crying out. The pace quickened and Cullen responded, fucking harder into Samson's mouth, bucking farther back into his hand.

Those fingers crooked then, hitting just the right spot, and Cullen couldn't hold out any longer. He came hard with a loud bark of a cry he couldn't suppress. Samson stilled then, Cullen's cock still buried in his mouth as the spasms slowed and then stopped.

He pulled away finally, looking up at Cullen and swallowing pointedly with a smirk.

Cullen watched through partly closed eyes as the man stood, adjusted himself matter-of-factly, straightening armor and smoothing hair as if… that… hadn't just happened, and turned toward the door.

“Samson… what about you?” Cullen panted.

“You owe me,” he grinned deviously, “I wonder when I'll ask for my repayment?” he said as he let himself out, leaving Cullen alone to worry over just how inopportune the time would be when Samson claimed what he was owed.

A battle of wills, over and over. Their little game.

_Raleigh_

_Cullen_

But was it really just that any more?

 

 


End file.
